Page 9 of Honor Unbound

“I asked your sister, and now I’ll ask you, Mr. Platt.” Lady Mary folded her hands. “Do you know why your brother-in-law would wish to see me? As you can imagine, I am at a loss as to why he came to my house to die.”

“No idea.” Platt sat on the settee’s armrest next to his sister.

“And do any of you know why someone would want to harm Mr. Trent?” Lady Mary included Mr. Randall in her question.

Mrs. Trent stiffened. “No one would want to hurt poor Edwin.”

“I’m sorry, but that is self-evidently untrue.” Lady Mary glanced heavenward.

“Perhaps a thief broke into the house and Edwin surprised him.” The look Mrs. Trent gave Lady Mary was challenging.

“Was anything stolen from your house?” Lady Mary asked.

Mrs. Trent’s shoulders slumped. “It didn’t appear so, no.”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” Platt leveled a glare at Lady Mary. “Can’t you see my sister is upset?”

Lady Mary straightened. “Of course, she’s upset. Her husband has been murdered. His life stolen from him. Everyone should be asking why it happened.”

“Those questions are for the magistrate to ask, not some impertinent old biddy,” Platt rejoined.

“George!” Mrs. Platt’s cheeks flamed red. “Please excuse my brother, Lady Mary. Due to the circumstances, none of us are at our best.”

Marie scowled. He had been shockingly rude. At the slightest sign from Lady Mary, Marie would show him just how unfit she truly was to be a refined lady’s companion. She’d been told her tongue could blister the walls when her back was up.

Her mistress only dipped her chin and gave Mr. Platt a look over her spectacles. “My years have given me the wisdom to understand how severe the iniquity of taking another life truly is, and that all must endeavor to right such a wrong.”

Randall extended his leg, staring at the toe of his boot. “‘Nobody loves life like him that’s growing old.’ Or her.”

Marie frowned, not knowing the reference, but Lady Mary only chuckled. “If you wish to insult me, Mr. Randall, it will take more than quoting Sophocles. I take no offense at the truth. Now, let us return to Mr. Trent. Is there any reason someone would wish to harm him?”

“No,” both Mrs. Trent and her brother said in unison.

“It’s no use pretending your husband was a saint, Anna.” Randall shrugged. “Everyone has enemies.”

Marie pursed her lips. She didn’t think she had any enemies. It couldn’t possibly be true thateveryonedid. But mayhap that said more about what went on inside Mr. Randall’s mind than anything.

“What about that Hicks fellow?” Randall flicked a bit of lint from his trousers. “He was none too happy with Trent when we went to visit him. Yelling to take the rafters down.”

“Hicks who?” Marie made sure to shove thathin. Her vow to keep silent hadn’t lasted long. It never did with her.

Mr. Platt grimaced. “Fenton Hicks. He is, or was, Edwin’s manager at the canning factory.”

Lady Mary nodded. “I remember Trent’s father opening that factory. A new process of preserving food to send to our soldiers on the front lines, yes?”

“If you can call it food.” Mr. Platt wrinkled his nose. “Still, it’s quite profitable, the only reason our father allowed Anna to marry Trent. It certainly wasn’t for his breeding.”

“What were they fighting about?” Marie leant forward, resting her forearms on her knees. She caught Mr. Randall staring at the gape the motion produced at her bodice and jerked back upright.

Randall’s smile was languid, knowing. “Something about a position Trent had promised him but didn’t deliver on. One can only toy with the working class so long before they take their revenge.”

“And is that what you think happened?” Lady Mary asked. “That this Fenton Hicks killed Mr. Trent?”

Mr. Randall picked up a small crystal figurine of a swan from the table beside him. He tossed it from one hand to the other. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t take notice of Mr. Hicks after we left the factory.”

“When was this?” Lady Mary gripped the orb at the top of her walking stick. It had been painted to look like the globe of the Earth.

Platt and Randall looked at each other. “Two weeks past?” Platt said, his voice uncertain.